


1968

by deathishauntedbyhumans



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dead People are Referenced in this Fic, Drug Use, Gay Male Character, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel, Vietnam War, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 01:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20145670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathishauntedbyhumans/pseuds/deathishauntedbyhumans
Summary: When they first meet, Klaus has no idea how important Dave will become to him. Hedoes, however, appreciate a beautiful man who is willing to give him drugs, so it makes sense, looking back on things, that Dave was destined to stick to him like glue.





	1968

**Author's Note:**

> Klaus Hargreeves got me FUCKED the FUCK up (◕ ˬ ◕✿)

The ground he’d appeared on was hard, made of packed dirt, and slightly damp from god-knew-what kind of liquid. Klaus dug his fingers into it, looking around frantically, the stolen briefcase nearly forgotten in his lap. He was _ supposed _ to be on the bus. He was headed home. (He was headed “home,” back to a place he hated filled with people who didn’t give a shit about him. Yeah. Home.) 

This wasn’t home. This was… also definitely _ not _ the bus. 

“Get that man some pants!” a man yells. He looks like a soldier. Someone throws pants Klaus’ way. He pulls them on without thinking, because that’s what you do when someone tosses pants in your direction. 

The briefcase fits comfortably beneath the seats of the overcrowded bus they’re all told to file into. (_They_. Klaus has, unwittingly, become a part of another _ they. _ First, it was the academy, and now, this... this _ war _that he’s apparently been thrown legs-first into.) Klaus sits in his seat and tries his hardest not to tremble. 

He tries his hardest, too, not to scream. 

Someone starts to talk to him. He replies on impulse, body and lips numb. He vaguely registers the face of an angel in front of him, followed by a gentle, calloused hand gripping his own. 

“I’m Dave,” the angel says. 

“Klaus.” He _ is _still Klaus, isn’t he? He tucks the briefcase further beneath the bench and tries to touch himself and take stock without Dave the angel noticing. Same chest, same hair, same shitty, sunken skin.

Dave notices, because of _ course _he does. But he doesn’t look disgusted. He doesn’t turn back around in his seat and ignore him. No, instead, he smiles crookedly. The corners of his eyes crinkle in bemusement. “For what it’s worth, man, it’s nice to meet you.”

Nice. It’s nice to meet him. _ Nice to meet you. _ Klaus is left speechless over the absurdity of what should have been a simple pleasantry. People don’t… people aren’t _ nice _ to him. He’s got the look of a junkie with the meth up his ass to prove them right. He’s not _ nice. _ He doesn’t deserve _ nice. _

If Ben were here, he’d remark on it, too. But —and it’s shocking to realise it, because Ben had been there the entire fucking time he’d been whipped and chained by the two psychopaths chasing after Five— _ Ben isn’t here. _

Klaus can definitely still see the dead. The bus is overcrowded enough even without the sight of the deceased joining them, but it’s even more claustrophobia-inducing when Klaus focuses long enough to tell the difference between the living and the not. A man with a gaping hole in his chest, another man without two of his limbs and a gaunt, hollow look in his eyes, another beside him with his throat slit. It’s sickening, and it makes Klaus start trembling despite his best efforts to keep himself together. 

But Ben isn’t anywhere among them.

Sometimes, Ben isn’t around because he’s busy fucking off doing whatever dead people do. But most of the time? Most of the time, Ben is there when Klaus is alone, because he _ knows _Klaus shouldn’t be alone. 

Klaus is alone as shit right now, and Ben isn’t here. 

“Dave,” Klaus says, and it’s all he can do to keep his voice steady. The achingly beautiful vision of a man behind him turns at the sound of his name, cocking an eyebrow in a silent response. Klaus swallows hard. “Can I ask you a very stupid question?”

“Only if you’ll let me give you a very stupid answer,” Dave replies immediately, confused look melting into something more genuinely amused. 

Klaus ignores the way he wants to melt into Dave’s gorgeous smile and closes his eyes. “What… uh, what year is it?”

To his credit, Dave doesn’t laugh or scoff like Klaus expects him to. (And shit, Klaus has been in this man’s presence for less than five minutes and he’s pretty sure he’s already in love with him. Dave has treated him more like a human being in their four sentences of conversation than his family has treated him since he was born.) No, Dave doesn’t scoff. Instead, Klaus feels a hand grip his shoulder tightly, squeezing with a pressure that feels more reassuring than any other goddamn thing in his life —drugs or otherwise— has ever felt before. 

“Unfortunately, Klaus,” Dave says, his voice heavy. “It’s still nineteen-fucking-sixty-eight.”

Nineteen sixty-eight. _ Nineteen sixty-eight. _ The resolve to not scream —or cry, _ shit— _immediately takes flight from Klaus’ mind, and his eyes blink open blearily after a good moment to stare at Dave, whose angelic hand is still holding his shoulder. 

“Nineteen-fucking-sixty-eight,” he mumbles, and he doesn’t even know if he’s trying to question it or if he’s just repeating it because he’s too fucking numb to take it in. 

Dave glances towards the front of the bus surreptitiously, just within view of Klaus’ weary gaze. When he turns back, he’s holding something secretively in the hand that isn’t clutching Klaus’ shoulder. 

Klaus stares down at Dave’s hand in faint confusion. “Is that—?”

“You seem like you need it,” Dave says easily, and before Klaus can argue (or agree, because _ fuck, _ this angel had to be straight from God His fucking Self to be offering him _ drugs _at a time like this), Dave slides his hand down from Klaus’ shoulder and picks up one of Klaus’ hands to deposit the unassuming little tablet he’s holding into it. He folds Klaus’ fingers up neatly on top of it before sitting back comfortably in his seat. 

“I—“

Dave winks at him. “Don’t mention it. There’s a lot of it around here, s’long as you don’t get caught by anyone who gives a shit. You’ll see. It’s not as bad out here as it could be.”

Briefly, Klaus unballs his fist to peer down at the little white tablet that’s just starting to stick to his pale, clammy flesh. “I don’t think it will be,” he agrees in a murmur, so quietly he isn’t sure Dave hears him. It doesn’t matter, though, because quick as a flash, he pops the tablet into his mouth and lets it settle expertly under his tongue. When he looks at Dave, it’s to see a small, knowing smile appearing on his face. Dave nods once at him and then leans his head back against his seat, staring up at the ceiling. 

Klaus mirrors him, but he closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of the drug dissolving in his mouth. He can hear the voices of the dead all around him, murmuring just loud enough to put him on edge. 

He clamps his jaw down harder and ignores them as best as he can, fighting the urge to search for Ben’s voice in the sea of whispers at the corner of his consciousness until the thought finally fades alongside the rest of anything that might have once been called “good judgement.”

**Author's Note:**

> *googles what drugs were used by soldiers in the Vietnam war*  
*googles how to take LSD*
> 
> Anyways, kudos/comments are love! Come scream at me on tumblr @deathishauntedbyhumans.


End file.
